


This is the Last Fucking Time I Visit Florida With You, Dude.

by Slim Shady (honklust)



Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: Intoxication, Mildly Dubious Consent, Other, Tentacles, Trans Male Character, canon-typical mention of drug use, tentacle fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2019-02-09 10:05:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12885558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honklust/pseuds/Slim%20Shady
Summary: Pickles accompanies Nathan to Florida for a little vacation. Somewhere along the way, he seems to have gotten lost.





	This is the Last Fucking Time I Visit Florida With You, Dude.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm kind of tired of editing this and I'm a little high on dayquil, so let me know if there's any major discrepancies. That said, please enjoy Pickles getting fucked by something that'd make Lovecraft shit the bed.

The fucking swamp water was getting into his boots even though Nathan had swore it wouldn’t. Wet socks. Sploosh sploosh sploosh. He was gonna get trenchfoot at this rate.

A mosquito buzzed by his ear and he jumped, swatted at it wildly, his nose wrinkling. It was hotter than hell out here and the moisture in the air made him feel like he was trudging around inside of Satan’s sweaty jockstrap.

“Nate’n, seriously, dude, how much longer are we gonna be wandering around out here in the middle of nowhere?” He rubbed at the back of his neck, calloused fingers brushing over an itchy raised spot. Fucking bugs. Christ.

The other man was barely paying attention, having wandered a few yards ahead, pressing one palm to the grey trunk of a mangrove. He was lost in thought, like the swamp had taken ahold of him. He’d barely said shit since they got out here.

It was kind of creeping Pickles out.

“Nate’n?” Pickles shuffled forward, felt his boot catch in some sludge, make a “SCHLOP” sound as it tried to dislodge itself from his foot. “Fuck- Damnit- Nate! This sucks, dude!” He wriggled his ankle, taking his eyes off his friend so he could focus on freeing himself. 

His stomach dropped, blood turning to ice in his veins as the mud pulled back against his attempts, something wrapping vice-like around his ankle. 

“What the-“ He looked up again, about to ask Nathan for help, tell him he was an idiot for bringing them here, whatever, but when his eyes landed on the spot Nathan had been standing moments before, he found himself suddenly, desperately alone.

The space in front of him was grey and calm, shallow murky water and thick patches of alien, hairy Everglades plants stuck to the bases of the weird knobbly mangrove roots. It looked like a place out of a nightmare, devoid of color, devoid of sound aside from the constant, awful drone of insects. He didn’t even hear any birds anymore.

Panic settled into the pit of his stomach, like a ball of led, sweat beading up on his forehead.

He felt the ground slide out from under him and then he was falling, being yanked up by the ankle so hard he felt the joint strain, heard an uncomfortable pop. He might’ve let out a stupid sound, whatever.

If a drummer screams in a swamp and nobody is around to hear it, does he actually make a sound? 

He was upside down now, head spinning as the blood rushed into his ears. He curled his fingers, arms hanging down below him, shock striking him dumb and pliant, like a deer in headlights.

He didn’t have a chance to try getting his bearings, because the next moment there was something thick and wet and cold slamming into his mouth, wrenching his jaws apart, sliding over his teeth. It felt dense and slippery, like some thick, raw meat, and he snorted violently as he tried to inhale around it. Snot and drool were immediately sent cascading down his face as his eyes watered. It tasted like pennies and sea water, like jizz, undercut with something weird that was less of a flavor and more of a feeling, like he had stuck his tongue on a 9-volt battery.

Christ. This wasn’t good, was it? Shit. Where the hell did Nathan go? The sky above him had turned a weird, ashy grey and the world was still deathly silent except for the sound of the thing that had caught him sloshing around in the swamp, the wet noises echoing unnaturally off the trees.

There was a low, bubbly growl from somewhere behind him and then he was slammed into the swamp ass-first, the cold water making his muscles freeze up as it soaked into his jeans and the back of his shirt, saturating him and leaving him trembling.

The impact seemed to knock the sense back into him after a moment, though, and he squirmed violently, suddenly remembering that he could like, fight against this fucking thing. He kicked his free leg, the other one still trapped tight against the ground, ankle aching deeply.

This was the moment that he came face to face with the monster that was currently pushing itself in between his jaws.

It was immense as it rose up out of the water – a writhing mass of blue-grey goo, draped with slimy, decaying leaves and plant matter. There was no face at first – just a contracting and expanding knot of tendrils below a thick, semi-translucent layer of slime. It made Pickles’ head hurt to look at, like his eyes couldn’t comprehend the entirety of the thing they were trying to take in. 

He wanted to look away, but his head was held stationary, the tentacle in his mouth pulsing gently, unmoving but holding his skull in place. His eyes felt like they were bulging out of his skull, jaw aching, panic and the obstruction making it hard for him to catch his breath. 

His chest tightened as he was forced to stare at the monster, able to make out two thick rows of yellowed teeth inside the grey mass, opening slowly to reveal a blinding whiteness that hurt to look at, made Pickles’ eyes water even as he was unable to squeeze them shut.

Oh god, he was fucked.

The creature pulled itself up to its full height, towering over him, nearly taller than the trees that surrounded them. Tentacles whipped upward on either side of it, looming momentarily before launching forward, wrapping around Pickles entire prone form. He screamed, or tried to, the tentacle in his mouth locking the sound in his throat, leaving him spluttering and panicky.

The limbs were all different sizes – some of them thick and clumsy, wrapping around his ankles and wrists and prodding stupidly against his belly, searching for something. The thinner ones (well, thin enough to only be the width of his wrist) were better at exploring. They slid underneath his shirt, tugged at it until it tore along the already worn seams, split open to reveal his pale, freckled chest, skin now spattered with mud and swamp goo.

He shuddered under their cold touch, like a nest of eels had decided to writhe across his abdomen. One of the tendrils settled against his stomach, below his ribcage, pressed itself taut against the skin and went still before drawing back and pulsing hard, the end of it wriggling like it was trying to burrow into him.

Something burst forward from the tentacle – a thin, undulating web of bright white that was hot, hot, so hot – the feeling was immensely jarring, contrasting so deeply with the cold of the water and the monster’s flesh that he flinched and then pressed into it, hungry for any kind of heat he could get ahold of. Felt like it was burning into his skin, but it was so different, so… nice. 

When had the air gone so fucking cold, anyway?

He felt his head going fuzzy as the web spread over his stomach, and that was familiar, the kind of early high buzz that he was used to. That probably wasn’t good, given the context. 

He squirmed a little in the grasp of the unspeakable creature above him, pressed his tongue up against the fat thing in his mouth, wanting to make it move or something aside from just sitting there making his jaw hurt. Was getting frustrating, more than anything – just sitting and buzzing gently like a light socket against his lips.

Evidently, the creature liked that, pressing down against his tongue and then shoving the tentacle down the back of his throat. He gagged and felt his eyes water again, wriggling as it pushed back and forth slowly, fucking his mouth. Holy shit. Holy shit.

He realized the familiarity of those motions about the exact same time he felt something tearing at his jeans. The tentacles weren’t exactly the most finessed, but what they lacked in grace they made up for in persistence. The moment the denim was yanked away from his waist he felt goosebumps pop up along his legs, the backs of them caked with gloopy mud immediately.

As it pulled down his pants he was lifted, gratefully, out of the murky water, but he wasn’t going to be getting away any time too soon. A fat, undulating tentacle slapped stupidly against his lower back, wrapped around the meat of his upper thigh before slipping right up between his legs. He gasped hard and the tentacle in his mouth took that moment to shove itself all the way down his throat once more, deep enough he thought he might die for a moment. He choked on it hard, snot and monster-slime dripping out of his nose as he rocked his hips – not sure if he was moving away or towards the feeling at this point, his mouth flooded with the taste of pennies and the dull buzz of electricity.

His vision doubled and blurred and he heard himself make a low, deep groan in his chest as the tentacle in his mouth forced itself in and out of his throat in slow, leisurely motions. This fucking thing must’ve been poisonous or something, it was the only explanation for why he was feeling so weird and cotton-headed. Whatever. Not gonna argue with a free high, right?

The tentacle between his legs had been joined by two more, all three of them grinding curiously up against his crotch, like they could tell that was where they were supposed to be headed but couldn’t see for sure. The beast’s body above him was blotting out the sun, an inky shadow cast against the grey skyline. Horrible, but kind of… enrapturing.

There was nothing now, nothing in the world except him and his captor – this unspeakable horror that would’ve made him piss himself if he hadn’t been so lightheaded, a pleasant vibration melting the tension from his body, turning him on in a gentle, slow kind of way. Like he’d popped some E – a euphoria he wasn’t sure he’d ever experienced in his life.

He felt something close to laughter bubble up around the tentacle that was still fucking his mouth as his jeans were torn fully away from his body, left hanging on by one bony ankle. He groaned again and then the tendril in his mouth swelled, stretching his jaw so wide it creaked in his ears, cutting off his airway and throbbing, cold and thick and seemingly endless.

A moment later, he was gagging violently as that same burning-hot white goo came pouring down his throat, filling him up and washing back up around the base of the wormlike appendage, spilling out of his nose and the corners of his mouth, squirming and spreading like it was alive. He felt tears swell in his eyes again, dripping down through the mud on his face. 

It felt weird and violent but the moment the stuff touched him he felt his focus grow even blurrier, his body tremble as he let out a stupid, pleased moan. His tongue was tingling as the tentacle withdrew fully, leaving him open-mouthed and panting, drool and still-twitching goo running down his chin. It tasted different from the slime on the tentacle proper – saltier and maybe just a little richer, more organic, maybe? He didn’t know for sure, he wasn’t a fucking, like, connoisseur of alien jizz. It was good, though. He wanted more of it. 

His head was spinning wildly, the shit in his mouth tasted like fish and salt and copper and was still dripping from his stupid, gaping mouth, as the tentacles between his legs seemed to find exactly what they were looking for. Maybe he should’ve worn underwear today. Maybe not.

Another little giggle escaped his lips, loopy and dripping with sex. He felt like he was on top of the fucking world.

The foremost tentacle arched upwards against his crotch, pressing its cold, slippery shaft against his cunt, leaving his messy pubes sticky with grey-tinged goo. The feeling drew a stupid, desperate moan from his lips and he rocked his hips forward, parted his thighs to try and help it ease its way into him. Desperate for it.

He wasn’t sure how long it teased him, but he’d really started settling into the motions, grinding his bare cunt up against the slick surface, feeling it grow warmer from his own body heat, when suddenly the tendril between his legs was gone and he was left with nothing but cold swamp air between his legs. He shuddered, a hint of that existential terror creeping back into his chest when he saw a long, inky tentacle whip through the air above him, readjusting its position, hips still rocking forward, humping the air.

Maybe this was dangerous?

He didn’t have a ton of time to get introspective as the tentacle pushed up between his legs again, pushed its rounded head into his cunt nice and slow, slipping into his body like it fucking belonged there. He let out a low, desperate moan, jaws hanging open like a fucking idiot. He looked a mess – his dreads absolutely caked with mud and leaves, grey silt caked to his back and his ass. There wasn’t any space in his brain for modesty, though - not while this thing was inside him, already pulsing back and forth gently, rocking in and out, swelling up inside him as it moved. Christ. Jesus. 

His slutty, desperate wails rose unbidden over the water, echoing between the trees and rocking up into the grey, unearthly sky, like the sound of the monster’s body moving in the water.

The creature’s mass was drawing closer, hovering over him now – once more blotting out the white-grey of the sky above, its horrible mouth cracking open again, letting out a shriek unlike anything he’d ever heard before, once again filling his gaze with that stark, bright whiteness that seemed to consume everything, to draw him in. 

The euphoria filled him again, swelled in his chest as the tentacles swelled up so thick he could feel his cunt stretch around it – snug and warm and filling in a way that he’d only been able to dream of before. It was perfect, perfect, perfect, everything he’d ever wanted. He was in heaven.

He threw his head back and screamed, the sound muffled and then drowned as another tentacle shoved into his mouth, immediately gushing into him, spilling what must’ve been gallons of that white spider-webby stuff into his prone body. The other tentacle was doing the same thing, gushing up into his pussy, spilling out around its edges.

The slime felt thicker than before, interspersed with weird, round, slippery things, like it was filling him full of those squishy little balls that expand in water or whatever. It was hot – felt almost like it was burning inside him, but the sensation was so deeply, deeply overwhelming that he could barely focus on it, an orgasm suddenly crashing through his body like a runaway train, making his limbs shake and his toes curl and his arms contract in towards himself. He had to swallow around the slime flooding into his mouth, the orbs pumping down his throat almost on their own, threatening to gag him.

As the tentacle continued pumping into him, abdomen swelling, his vision started to blur, pretty white dots dancing in front of his eyes. The last thought that he has before his entire world faded out of view and his body went limp was, “best fuck of my life.”


End file.
